Quiver
by hannah415
Summary: For Jily Secret Santa... Her lips were quivering, and her small hands were clutching his considerably larger ones, and one of the strands of her fiery hair was in her eyes. She looked scared and shocked and he thought – if he was looking close enough – just the slightest bit pleased.


**This is for Jily Secret Santa! This story is for Laleh (distinctlydottyaura). I hope you like it, love!**

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_Where is she?_

He had been looking for her.

He realized this, suddenly, and for some reason this revelation did not cause him any amount of surprise. After months – years, really – of denial and determination to _not_ think about Lily _sodding_ Evans, he was back at square one. He felt eleven years old all over again, stuttering and awkward and nervous as hell.

The common room had never seemed so empty, and perhaps that was because nearly everyone had gone home this Christmas; the state of things – with the war and Voldemort – made people want their relatives near during times like this, but James had remained behind with the other Marauders. Lily had stayed, too, and he thought she might have mentioned that Marlene was still here, but he hadn't seen her.

And that led him to the thought that currently niggled at the back of his brain: _where is she_?

She wasn't in the common room, he found after one glance, and he exited Gryffindor tower, letting intuition carry him. His feet moved of their own accord, and he found himself at the Head Boy and Girl office before he realized where he was going.

She was sitting in the window seat, a blanket wrapped around her thin shoulders with a steaming cup of tea and a book. She had a thoughtful expression on her face, and she released a weary sigh, glancing out the window to her right, and she frowned.

"Lily?"

His voice made her jump, and she nearly spilled her tea. "Bugger," she muttered, waving her wand to conjure a small table. She placed the book and the cup upon it, clutching at the blanket around her shoulders, before looking up.

"Yes?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

She tried to repress a smile. His bluntness was something she had grown accustomed to – and perhaps was fond of, if she was being honest – in their years together, and she sighed again. "Reading," she stated dully, gesturing to her abandoned book.

"Yes, well… why are you doing it _here_?"

She pursed her lips in thought. She couldn't very well tell him that she had been doing it to avoid _him_, or that she wanted some time to collect her thoughts without his _sodding _hair and eyes and smile slinking into her mind. Eventually, she knew, he'd probably have to know, but she hoped that this little crush would wane away – because that's all it was, honestly. A crush.

"I just felt like getting out," she lied with a casual shrug. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she could tell that he knew she was lying (she was truly a rubbish liar) but she merely turned her gaze back towards the window.

She felt rather than saw him sat down across from her on the small window seat, and she drew her knees into her chest, setting her chin atop them.

He wondered how she did that; how she simply looked at him, and his entire body seemed to seize up, and his fingers would itch just to _touch_ her.

Her hair was hanging in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, with a few wispy strands framing her face, and her green eyes looked tired. Everything about her seemed exhausted; he could see the bruised shadows underneath her eyes, and her shoulders slumped, and her eyelids looked heavy.

He shook himself. _Bugger_. "You're lying," he said decidedly.

"What?" _No. Not yet. I can't tell him yet._

"You're lying," he repeated, firmer this time. "Why did you really come up here, Lily?"

She thought about telling him. If only for a moment, she thought about it. But then, resigned, she whispered, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

He laughed (_Merlin_, she loved his laugh). He grinned crookedly at her, leaning against the wooden frame behind him and crossing his arms over his chest. "Tenacious, are we?"

She snorted. "Observant, are we?"

James grinned again, habitually ruffling his hair. Lily smiled softly, turning her face back towards the window, and she let another melancholic sigh escape her lips. "I was hoping it would snow," she murmured, more to herself than anything, but she could tell that James heard.

"Why?"

"Because it's Christmas," she stated, as though it were obvious. "It should always snow on Christmas."

James cocked an eyebrow. She peered up at him, and then laughed lightly. "Yes, I know," she muttered, with a wave of her hand. "It's childish. But I love Christmas. It…" She paused. Her brow dented in what James could only describe as thoughtfulness. "It reminds me of innocence."

"Innocence?" he echoed, unable to hide his bewilderment.

"Yes." Her voice was firm. She placed her chin on her knees again, blinking slowly as she looked at him. _Godric, _she was beautiful.

And perhaps because he was tired, and because she looked so _sad_, and because she was the girl that he couldn't get out of his head, he said it. "You're beautiful."

She blinked once. Twice. "James –"

"No, Lily, I… I need…" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Bugger. Okay. I –"

"James, please –"

"Lily, I have _tried_ to get over you. It's been seven fucking years, and I've tried so _damn_ hard, but you're… you're always _there_, at the back of my head, and I can't… I can't just pretend anymore, and I –"

She was reaching for his hands, as though trying to force him to slow down. Her eyes were wide and watery and the beginnings of tears were in her eyes. "James, _please_, for Godric's sake –"

"_No_, Lily – damn, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be – Lily, I love you. Or – shit – I'm _in_ love with you, and probably have been for longer than I care to admit, but – _Merlin_ please stop looking at me like that."

Her lips were quivering, and her small hands were clutching his considerably larger ones, and one of the strands of her fiery hair was in her eyes. She looked scared and shocked and he thought – if he was looking close enough – just the slightest bit pleased.

"James…"

"Oh shit."

"James, stop it…"

"Shit. Shit. Shouldn't have done that. Shit."

He tried to get up, but she dug her nails into his hands, sending him an imploring look. "_James_."

"_What_, Lily?" he almost yelled. He was shaking, and he stood suddenly. Her arms fell into her lap.

She released a heavy sigh, meeting his eyes, and he could seek that spark of determination flickering in them.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered, discarding the blanket and standing up.

And, before James could really understand what was occurring, she smashed their lips together.

Her arms encircled his neck, and he wrapped his own around her waist, clutching her to him as though his life depended on it. She tasted like vanilla and warmth and _home_, and it was even better than he had dreamed of.

They broke apart and pulled back, their noses almost touching. She closed her eyes, and she could feel his soft pants tickling her face. She lifted her eyelids, and he was grinning at her, then, and she released a breathy laugh.

"Happy Christmas, James," she murmured, dropping her forehead on his own.

"Happy Christmas, Lily."

And in the morning, when the other Marauders found them – with help of the Map – they were entangled in each other's arms on the window seat, and snow was falling.


End file.
